Fixing McGee's Problem
by Shellie Williams
Summary: After the episode Jet Lag, McGee believes he owes a life-debt to Gibbs. Repaying it may cost more than he imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**Rating: K+**

_I guess this is what you'd call an extended epilogue for Jet Lag, so there are slight spoilers for that episode. I decided that McGee's self-imposed "life debt" he owed to Gibbs needed to be further addressed, mainly because of the potential h/c factor. _

**I**

McGee moved cautiously down the hall. He heard Tony open a door behind him. A bat swung suddenly from around the corner, catching McGee across his forearm. Numbing electricity shot up his arm. He dropped his gun, shouting in pain. Before McGee could recover, Compton rushed around the corner, spun him around, and twisted McGee's injured arm behind his back.

Compton pressed his knife against McGee's throat, effectively freezing Tony where he stood.

"Drop the gun, DiNozzo."

Tony's jaw tightened; the only outward sign of his tension. "You drop the knife, Compton."

Compton pressed the blade's edge firmer against McGee's throat. McGee's eyes widened and locked on Tony's.

"I'll cut his throat. You'll have no choice but to stay here and try to save his life. You won't come after me."

Tony shook his head slightly, but kept his gaze and his gun trained on his target. "Wrong-O, Compton. I'll put a bullet between your eyes before you can cut him. And I won't be wasting time trying to save _your_ life. We'll just sit and watch you bleed to death before the ambulance gets here."

Compton's voice wavered. "No! I said put the gun down now!" Abruptly, Compton drew the knife away from McGee's throat.

Believing Compton had surrendered, Tony took a step forward.

The blade swung down, stabbing viscously into McGee's shoulder. McGee cried out and grabbed the injury. Compton pushed him away and twisted around to run. Tony fired a warning shot that splintered the door frame just at Compton's head level. The criminal froze; he lifted his hands into the air.

Pressed against the wall, McGee slid slowly to the floor. Tony hurried to his side. "McGee?"

Eyes squeezed closed, McGee nodded. "I'm – okay. Get Compton."

Pausing just long enough to make sure McGee didn't pass out on him, Tony moved around him and quickly handcuffed Compton. He rushed the man out of the house and into the hands of the waiting authorities, requested an ambulance then quickly returned to McGee.

He knelt beside McGee in the hall and gently reached for his arm. McGee flinched from his touch. "Don't – I think my arm's broken where he hit me with the bat."

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Ouch. Sorry, Probie."

Eyes still closed, McGee shook his head slowly. "Wasn't your fault. He murdered the Gunny with a bat; I should have been ready for it."

Tony stood and wandered through the kitchen until he found a clean dishtowel. He rejoined McGee and carefully pressed the cloth against McGee's still bleeding wound, holding it there. McGee's hand slid down to land limply in McGee's lap.

"You're being too hard on yourself, McGee. You can't be prepared for everything."

McGee's head rolled against the wall until he faced Tony. "Gibbs is. He's prepared when we go out into the field. He's prepared when a car rushes at him. He was quick enough to push me out of the way."

Tony smiled and patted McGee's back. "That's the boss. He'll bark at us and give us a bad time, but we all know he'd do anything for us. Even get hit by a car."

McGee shook his head. "But I should have been quicker, Tony. He shouldn't have had to push me out of the way." McGee pushed against the wall with his good arm and gathered his feet under him.

"Whoa, there, Probie, where ya goin'?"

With great effort and a painful groan, McGee managed to stand. "I gotta keep going, just like Gibbs would." He swayed and leaned heavily against Tony. "Sorry. Dizzy."

Tony caught him and wrapped his arm around him, somehow keeping the dishtowel in its place on McGee's shoulder at the same time. "This hero worship isn't healthy, McGee. You're not Gibbs. None of us are."

"I -- " McGee's eyes rolled back in his head. He folded slowly against Tony.

Tony braced his back against the wall and eased McGee to the floor. A paramedic arrived. Tony moved gratefully out of the way and allowed the man space to work. Watching, Tony reran the conversation he'd just had with McGee through his head. Blood loss and shock had loosened McGee's tongue, and he'd probably revealed more about his feelings than he would have had he not been in pain. But the insight had shown Tony something about McGee: McGee believed he owed a debt, and the repaying of it was weighing heavy on his soul. He intended to do something about that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**II**

Tony sat at his desk, fingers busy at his keyboard, but his gaze was trained on Ziva. If she sensed his attention, she did not show it.

Finally realizing he'd have to make the first move, Tony cleared his throat. She did not take the hint. He coughed.

"Are you coming down with something, Tony?"

Abandoning his desk, Tony shifted quickly to Ziva's side of the office. "Yes, now that you mentioned it, there is something I need to talk to you about."

Her hands froze above her keyboard and she lifted surprised eyes to Tony. "I did not ask if there was something you needed to talk about."

"It's McGee."

"What about McGee?" She leaned back in her chair and folder her hands in her lap. "He is returning to work today, yes? Do you wish to plan a surprise 'welcome back' party for him?" Her lip curled with amusement.

"No." Tony frowned for a moment, then decided not to be distracted. "I'm worried about him."

Ziva shrugged. "Why? Was his injury more serious than expected?"

Tony shook his head. He slid from her desk and leaned in closer. "It's not that. His arm was fractured and the knife wound will barely leave a scar. It's something else."

She sat up. "Is McGee all right?"

Tony straightened abruptly as Gibbs walked past moving toward his desk.

"What's wrong with McGee?" One finger hooked in the edge of the sling cutting uncomfortably into his neck, Gibbs sat down and woke his computer up.

"He's coming back today --" Tony shifted quickly to his own desk. "Ziva was suggesting that we throw him a welcome back party, but I didn't think --"

Ziva opened her mouth to protest, but Gibbs interrupted. "Too late – he's back."

McGee joined them. Left arm in a brace and sling, he nodded to his teammates as he walked through to his desk.

"Welcome back, McGee!" Tony and Ziva stood to join him. Tony helpfully pushed his chair in after he sat, and Ziva leaned down to kiss him gently on the cheek.

McGee grinned. "Thanks."

"How is your arm?"

McGee glanced at Ziva before casting a nervous eye at Gibbs as he answered his ringing phone. "Fine. The doctor said it was a hairline fracture; shouldn't take more than a couple of months to be back to normal."

"And the knife wound?"

McGee shrugged with his good shoulder. "Some internal stitching. Not too bad. He said it would barely even leave a scar."

"That is good news, McGee."

Gibbs stood while grabbing his gun from his desk drawer. "Gear up. We've got a dead Marine." Tony and Ziva hurried to gather their things. McGee stood. "Not you, McGee."

"Boss! Your arm's in a sling, too!"

Gibbs slipped his phone into his pocket and rounded his desk. He grabbed McGee's shoulder – not harshly, but firmly. McGee grit his teeth and dropped his shoulder. Gibbs let go.

"Until you're in less pain, you're on desk duty, McGee."

Just before he entered the elevator, Tony looked back. Tim was still standing at his desk, watching them leave, an almost desperate look on his face. The worry in his gut tightened for just a second, then the elevator doors shut and his mind shifted to the case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**III**

It was late when Tony drove up to Tim's apartment building. For a moment after he'd turned off the car, he sat in the quiet and second-guessed his decision. What if Tim were asleep? What if he didn't feel like company? _Come on, DiNozzo, when has that ever stopped you?_ Determined, Tony got out of his car, bottle in hand, and walked to Tim's door.

It took several minutes of knocking and nagging before McGee finally opened. Tony leaned in and grinned. "Thought you could use some company."

Hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, McGee gave every indication that he'd been asleep. He covered a yawn with his good hand and missed the moment when Tony shifted past him into the apartment.

Realizing Tony was in, McGee turned to face him. "DiNozzo, it's nearly one o'clock. I was asleep, man. Can't this wait?"

Ignoring the sleepy protest, Tony rummaged in the kitchen for a couple of glasses. Finding two, he moved back to the front door just in time to detour McGee from returning to his bedroom, steering him toward his desk, instead. "Not until we've celebrated your first day back at work."

Tim plopped into his chair. He braced his elbow on his desk and wiped a hand wearily across his face. "What? I was only gone two days." Taking the glass Tony offered without protest, McGee closed his eyes and mumbled, "Besides, I'll be on desk duty for at least a week. So I'm not really back at work, yet." He took a sip of his drink. His eyes opened wide and he sputtered and coughed into his fist. "What the hell--?"

"Just a little celebration drink, McGee."

McGee looked at Tony as if he'd grown a third ear. "It's whisky! I'm not drinking whisky at 1 AM when I have to be at work in a few hours."

"McGee. You don't have to be so straight-laced all the time. You don't have to drink much; besides, this will help you sleep. Believe me. It's better than pain meds." Cautiously, Tony tipped the bottle and poured just a bit more into McGee's glass. He hid his grin when Tim didn't protest.

Perhaps it was because it was so late, or the pain meds, but for whatever reason, Tim was tipsy within the hour. He'd drunk less than a third of the bottle. Tony shook his head. No wonder Probie didn't imbibe much; he didn't want the others to know how little it took for him to get drunk. When it took Tim three times to find the desk in order to set his glass down, Tony figured he'd had enough.

"Come on, Tim, time for bed."

"I'm not that kind of girl." McGee giggled.

"Upsy-daisy." Standing, Tony slid his arm under McGee's good shoulder and lifted him to his feet.

Overbalanced, Tony drifted into the wall. Finding his feet, he guided them both to the bedroom, and aimed for the bed. In a move that lacked both grace and coordination, Tony released McGee and grimaced in sympathy when the young man landed half on his injured arm. Luckily, there was enough alcohol in his system to dull the pain. With barely a grunt, Tim rolled to his good side.

Tony tugged some of the covering out from under McGee's legs and tossed them over him. Satisfied McGee was comfortable, Tony caught a chair and pulled it closer.

"McGee."

"Hhmmm?"

"You're on desk duty tomorrow, and for the rest of the week. You need to take it easy and let your arm heal."

Tony watched as McGee swallowed. A tiny line appeared between his eyebrows when he frowned. "I need – I need to be in the field with you and Ziva. I need to be there to back up Gibbs when he --"

Tony leaned closer. "When he what, Tim?"

"When he needs me."

"Gibbs will be fine. Ziva and I will take care of him."

McGee's eyes remained closed and his breathing evened out, growing deeper. "He s-saved my life, Tony. I owe him."

Tony shifted closer and spoke softly. "What do you owe him?"

McGee's breathing caught for a second, then continued in the rhythm of a sleeper. Just as Tony was about to give up, McGee's voice mumbled quiet and low: "My life."

_Oh boy._


	4. Chapter 4

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**IV**

"Tim, you're with me. Tony, Ziva, go around back."

Tony swallowed his protest and joined Ziva. It was nice having both McGee and Gibbs back in full form without their slings. Having a complete team again definitely made them stronger, in more ways than one. But that niggling worry in the back of Tony's mind kept picking at him, drawing his attention away from whatever he was working on. And right now, that could get him killed. With an effort, he focused on Ziva; watching her and being alert for any danger headed their way. He'd just have to hope that they would be the ones to confront Rodriguez and his henchmen, and not McGee and Gibbs. Because, if McGee had the opportunity to… Tony's thoughts were cut short when he and Ziva arrived at the house's back entrance.

The pounding Gibbs gave the front door sounded muffled from this distance. The older man's voice boomed with authority. Immediately, activity within the house intensified. Tony drew a bead on the back door, waiting for it to open. Instead, there was shouting and the sound of chaos and mayhem from the front of the house. Waiting only for a second, Ziva stepped back and allowed Tony to kick down the back entrance. Together, they stormed into the building, loudly announcing who they were and for the men to put their weapons down.

The few who were there surrendered immediately. They dropped to their bellies and placed their hands behind their heads. While Ziva kept her gun on them, Tony moved through the house carefully, heading for the front. He arrived to find the door wide open, with several NCIS agents rounding up suspects. He caught a senior agent's eye.

"Where's Gibbs?"

The man lifted his chin, indicating the surrounding neighborhood. "He and McGee took off after a couple of runners."

Tony looked behind him to find Ziva exiting the house. "Ziva, you're with me!" Not waiting for her to acknowledge the order, Tony hurried to follow Gibbs and McGee.

Old and rundown houses quickly gave way to closed and dilapidated businesses. This was not a section of the city that tourists frequented. Falling dusk shrouded the neighborhood, like an old lady drawing a shawl around hunched shoulders. In any other location the darkening might lend a sense of romance or mystery; but in this part of town, it just lengthened shadows and created more hiding places for things people did not wish to be seen.

How were they supposed to track Gibbs in this? Tony stopped and peered both ways down the street. He didn't have a clue which way to go.

Ziva drew up to him. "Tony. Try Gibbs' cell phone."

Nodding, Tony pulled out his phone. Almost immediately after dialing Gibbs' number, a familiar ring sounded for just an instant to his right. Tony closed his phone. He and Ziva quietly moved in that direction.

An old apartment building sat backed up against the alley. Abandoned and crumbling with age along its foundations, its naked window frames were like empty eye sockets staring back at them. Tony approached cautiously, his nerves vibrating like tight guitar strings. Weird feelings of déjà vu came over him, as if he'd look down and find himself in a cop's uniform. Blinking to refocus his attention, he glanced back to make sure Ziva was following, then entered the building.

It wasn't hard to find McGee and Gibbs. They'd obviously followed the runners into this building, then either were surrounded by reinforcements, or somehow lost the upper hand. However it happened didn't really matter at the moment. What did matter was how to get them out alive.

Gibbs lay on the ground, apparently unconscious, surrounded by a loose circle of men. He lay face down, but illumination filtering in from a working streetlight outside the building still managed to find an edge of highlight in the blood running down the side of his face.

McGee stood in the middle of the circle, near Gibbs. He shifted around, facing each man. He wobbled on his feet, but he moved quickly when one of the men lunged toward him. Blocking a punch aimed for his face, he countered and struck the man in the ribs. Another man attacked him from behind, swinging a length of rebar that bounced violently against his back. McGee arched with pain and fell to his knees.

"NCIS! Freeze!" About the time Tony and Ziva stepped out of the shadows, several other NCIS agents joined them. The men attacking McGee promptly put down or dropped their weapons and surrendered.

Tony put away his gun and hurried to McGee. "Are you all right?"

Ignoring the question, McGee shifted on his knees to Gibbs' side. "Boss? Boss, can you hear me?"

Gibbs groaned and rolled to his side. He pressed the heal of his hand to his forehead. "Don't shout, McGee."

McGee's eyes closed with relief. He swayed. Tony grasped his arm and steadied him.

"Stay still, Boss. We've got an ambulance on the way." Tony looked at McGee. "McGee, are you okay?"

McGee nodded. "Yeah. Gibbs took the brunt of it." He shook his head and shifted from his knees to sit on the ground. "We followed two of them in here, but suddenly there were more. I have no idea where they came from."

He grew silent when the paramedic showed up and began fussing over Gibbs. Gibbs refused the stretcher, but did allow assistance to the ambulance, where he sat quietly during a cursory examination.

Tony helped McGee up and walked with him to another waiting paramedic. After suggesting McGee get his ribs x-rayed, and offering a cold pack for his head, the medic moved on to someone else. Tony sat quietly watching McGee. Ziva silently joined them.

"You should feel pretty good about tonight, McGee."

McGee withdrew the cold pack and let it drop into his lap. "Yeah? Why's that, Tony?"

"You've repaid your debt. You and Gibbs are even now."

McGee shook his head. He stood up and laid the cold pack on the back of the ambulance. "Nope, doesn't work that way. If it hadn't been for Gibbs, those men would have killed me. I'm afraid you've counted wrong, Tony. If anything, I owe Gibbs double now." McGee walked away.

Tony stood and crossed his arms. He looked at Ziva and lifted his eyebrows. "See what I mean?"

Ziva tracked McGee as he went to check on Gibbs. "Yes, I do. I agree with you, Tony. We've got a problem."


	5. Chapter 5

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**V **

Tony wiggled a little in his seat. The witness had been questioned, they had the information they needed, and McGee was back at the office, getting them a warrant. The case was pretty much wrapped up. Here he was in the car with Gibbs, the golden opportunity to talk about what had been bothering him. The only trouble was: how to begin? He glanced at Gibbs, trying to read his profile. Was he in a good mood? Never easy to tell.

"Something on your mind, DiNozzo?"

Feeling as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Tony shook his head and leaned against his door. "No, Boss, there's --" Closing his eyes, Tony took a deep breath. Acting like a rookie afraid of the big bad wolf wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Yeah, yeah, there is."

Gibbs' mouth quirked in a half smile. "I thought there was."

"It's about McGee."

"What about him?"

"I guess you've noticed how weird he's been acting ever since you pushed him out of the way of that car and hurt your shoulder."

Gibbs' grin widened. "It's like having a personal valet."

"Yeah. About that."

Gibbs glanced at Tony before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I didn't ask him to wait on me, Tony. That was his idea. I pretty much told him I didn't need a babysitter, but he insisted. When he wouldn't quit, I decided to let him do it and see how far he'd go."

Tony swallowed hard, then said it. "I think it's gone far enough, Boss."

The car shifted hard to the right and came to an abrupt stop against the curb. Horns honked, but Gibbs ignored them. He turned to Tony, eyes wide and intense, with that no-nonsense look that made Tony want to get out of the car.

"Spit it out, DiNozzo."

"When Compton attacked him, he did everything he could to keep going." Tony held still, gauging Gibbs' reaction. "There he was, hurt and bleeding, and all he could think about was getting up off that floor and walking out of the house to continue his job."

Gibbs' gave a quick nod. "McGee's not a quitter."

"He was doing it because – he said because that's what _you_ would do. And he passed out because of it."

The skin around Gibbs' eyes crinkled as he squinted in thought. He turned away from Tony and stared at the road.

Tony warmed up to his subject. "That's not all. The day he got back to the office from that case, I dropped in for a quick visit that night. With a little alcohol in his system, Tim told me something else – he told me that he owed you --"

Gibbs turned back to face Tony. "He owed me what?"

"His life."

Gibbs shook his head but remained silent.

"When we raided the Rodriguez house--"

"That made us even."

"No. McGee looks at it differently. He said you took the brunt of the attack and that if it hadn't been for you, he'd be dead, so now he owes you double."

Gibbs didn't comment.

"I may have an idea how to fix this, Boss."

Gibbs reached for the key and cranked the car. "Oh, this ought to be good."

"McGee will never know it's a setup, and the debt he imagines he owes, will be paid."

A deep sigh left Gibbs as he turned back into the traffic. "I'm listening."

By the time they made it back to the office, Tony had convinced Gibbs the plan would work. Nothing could go wrong. Walking back to his desk, Tony gave Ziva a thumbs up. She nodded slightly, then bowed her head to hide her glance at McGee and the small smile that graced her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**VI**

Gibbs glanced at McGee, then turned his eyes back to the road. "Something bothering you, McGee?"

"I was just wondering -- why did we agree to meet with Rickman tonight? Couldn't Tony and I have just picked him up tomorrow and brought him in for questioning?"

"We need his statement tonight so we can get the paperwork started. Tony and Ziva are scheduled to appear in court tomorrow; they wouldn't have time for this."

McGee shrugged. "Just seems like wasted time to me."

"You think it's wasted time to pick up a witness who might put Stratton behind bars?"

"No, Boss, I just --"

"We're here." Gibbs cut the lights and pulled in against the curb. "We don't want to spook him, so don't draw your weapon unless you absolutely have to." They exited the car. Gibbs muttered to himself, "I can't believe I let Tony talk me into this."

"Did you say something, Boss?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Nothing. You cover the front. I'm heading around back."

The sun had set since they'd left the office. Gibbs pulled a flashlight out and turned it on. The building in front of them sat silent and dark. At one time a storage house for a thriving business, now it was an empty shell with nothing but leftover crates and broken fixtures to fill its space.

McGee entered cautiously, wishing he had a flashlight, too. His weapon was on his hip and his hand kept drifting towards it. Gibbs' warning repeated in his head. Curling his hand into a fist, McGee forced himself not to touch his gun.

The hall widened, then opened into a large room. Silhouetted against an open doorway, Gibbs stood talking to another man. McGee backed into the shadows and quietly made his way closer. When he was within just a couple of yards, the man reached behind himself for something tucked into his belt. Believing he saw a weapon, McGee drew his own and aimed for the stranger. "Gun!"

Gibbs and the man both turned to McGee. A low hat brim threw the man's face into shadow. The hand with a weapon rose higher. McGee tensed and lifted his gun to point at the man's head. "Freeze!"

Gibbs stepped into the line of fire. Shocked, McGee tried to look around him. "Boss! Move!"

An expression McGee couldn't quite interpret shifted across Gibbs' face. With a suspicious looking grin, Gibbs stepped back and swept his arm toward the stranger. "Go ahead, shoot him."

"Gibbs!"

Confused, McGee lowered his weapon. "Tony?"

"You would have let him shoot me?"

Gibbs' grin widened. He turned away. "It was your idea, Tony."

"Tony! What the hell is going on here?"

Tony adjusted his hat back. "You weren't supposed to use your weapon."

"Would someone please explain to me what's going on here?" McGee looked at Gibbs for answers, but the older man shrugged and crossed his arms. McGee turned to DiNozzo. "Tony?"

Tony lifted his hands, palms up. "Just trying to help you out, Probie."

McGee put his gun away. "Help me with what?"

Tony looked down and shook his head. He moved closer and looked at McGee. "This debt you think you owe Gibbs. I was trying to help you pay it back."

McGee's jaw dropped. He stared at Tony, then glanced behind to see if Gibbs was listening, but the older man had already left the building. "You _what_?"

"I was worried about you. You don't know how to let things go. Gibbs was working you hard, figuring you'd eventually decide you were even. But instead you pushed harder, wearing yourself out and believing you owed Gibbs your life. I was just trying to help you – _even_ the score."

"How? By getting yourself killed?"

Tony backed up and crossed his arms. "No. You were supposed to think Gibbs was threatened and rush in to save him – but not with your gun. Then, I was going to run off and Gibbs would claim that you saved his life. Debt paid."

"I could have shot you, Tony. How do you think it would have made me feel if I'd killed you all because of a prank?"

Tony shook his head. "That wouldn't have happened."

"You don't know that! Do me a favor? Don't help me! I can take care of myself." Spinning around, McGee walked out of the building. He rounded the corner and stopped short when he found Gibbs standing with his hands raised, and a tall, rather lanky man pointing a gun at him. Exasperated, McGee continued forward. "What? You've got Palmer in on it, too?"

"McGee – No!"

Gibbs yelled, McGee's hand touched the gun, and the weapon discharged, all at the same moment. McGee's body jerked and he folded in on himself, like he'd been mule-kicked in the gut. Eyes wide with surprise and shock, he fell backwards into Gibbs. Gibbs caught him and eased him to the ground.

Tony came around the corner, gun in hand aimed at the shooter. "NCIS! Drop your weapon!"

The gun dropped to the ground. Tony shifted around Gibbs and McGee, grabbed the man, and handcuffed him. "Stay down!" Pushing his shoulder to make sure he understood, Tony turned to his friends.

"McGee!" Tony dropped to his knees.

"Tony, call an ambulance. We gotta stop this bleeding." Gibbs worked his way out from under McGee and lowered him to the ground as Tony made the call.

McGee lay staring, eyes open but not seeing. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps. When Gibbs moved, McGee's eyes squeezed shut and his breathing caught in his throat. Gibbs jammed his palm against McGee's gut and covered it with his other hand, leaning his weight hard into McGee's body. A breathy, strained cry gushed out of McGee.

"Hold on, McGee." Tony dropped his phone and leaned over McGee, one hand cupping the top of McGee's head. "You hear me, Probie? Hold on – I know you can do this."

McGee's head lifted slightly as he struggled through his pain. "T-Tony."

"I'm right here."

"Th-thanks for try -- trying t-to hel' m-me."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Guilt stole in and swelled in his chest until it felt as if his heart would stop. A siren pierced the distance and Tony cast a grateful look skyward.

"That's what friends do, Tim. We meddle in each other's business."

Tim might have smiled. His eyes closed and his head fell back to the ground. Alarmed, Tony looked at Gibbs.

"Boss?"

"He's still breathing. Go wave down the ambulance and make sure it finds us."

Tony stood and ran into the street. When the ambulance arrived, time sped up. The paramedics took over, quickly assessed McGee, put him in the vehicle and left for the hospital, Gibbs and Tony following close behind. Gibbs stayed silent; Tony spent the quick trip imagining McGee's recovery.


	7. Chapter 7

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**VII**

Gibbs sat waiting for McGee's eyes to open. The intubation tube had been removed, along with the drainage port from the surgery site, and most of the bulky padding. The doctor had assured them McGee would recover. The damage had been repaired. Now McGee lay still and sleeping, machines beeping and humming around him, reminding Gibbs that McGee still lived, despite the ghost-like quality of his skin.

_The paramedic firmly pushed Tony aside. "Please move out of the way sir." He nodded absently at Tony's hushed explanation: "He's been shot" and replaced Gibbs' hands with his own. "Thank you, we'll take it from here."_

Eyelashes flickered. McGee's head turned on his pillow, but he did not wake. Twenty-four hours following surgery, the intubation tube had been removed from his throat. The ICU nurses kept a close watch on McGee, checking his vitals, changing his dressings. Finally, he'd been moved out of Intensive Care, and into a private room.

_Blood smeared slick and dark against the ground. The paramedics exchanged information, working seamlessly together as they applied pressure bandages and quickly started an IV. The gurney appeared from nowhere. With a quick, "1, 2, 3" count, they had McGee shifted to the stretcher and rolled to the ambulance. Doors shut with a solid snap, the siren began screaming, and they were gone._

McGee had woken several times following his surgery. He was confused, asking the same questions repeatedly, not remembering he'd already been given the answers. But he'd become more lucid as time passed.

Gibbs' glance drifted to the window. They were on the 5th floor, so there was nothing to see from his viewpoint but sky. If he stood and walked to look outside, he'd see distant buildings, people on sidewalks, cars traveling by. It was funny how life moved on without you sometimes. Time held still in this room; McGee slept; Gibbs waited.

_They both rushed for the car. Gibbs stopped before he could open the door. "Tony!"_

_Tony's eyes, wide and afraid, stared back at him._

"_The perp!"_

_A look of almost relief ghosted across Tony's face. What had he been expecting? Quickly, he raced back for the handcuffed man, shoved him into the back seat, and joined Gibbs in the front. _

"_Boss – I'm sorry."_

_He knew Tony was watching him, needing him to say something, but he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut._

"_It shouldn't have happened this way." _

_Gibbs glanced in his rearview mirror. The shooter stayed silent; eyes thin slits, glaring at him. Gibbs took out his phone and made a quick call. The local LEOs would be waiting at the hospital to take this dirt bag off his hands._

"_Boss – Gibbs, say something."_

"_We're here."_

_Surprised, Tony looked out the front to find they'd arrived at the hospital. When Gibbs parked, Tony grabbed the criminal from the backseat and followed Gibbs._

Gibbs pulled his gaze away from the window to find McGee watching him. He stood and moved to the bed.

"Boss?" McGee's voice was scratchy and raw. Gibbs retrieved the small cup of water beside the bed and offered the straw. McGee didn't even have to lean forward for a sip. He drank gratefully, then closed his eyes. "What happened?"

Gibbs put the cup back on the table, prepared to answer the same questions again. "What do you remember?"

McGee swallowed. He opened his eyes and rolled them up to study the machines around his bed. "I remember – I remember Tony had a gun." His knees shifted under the blanket. He gasped with the movement and pressed his hand against his belly. "Did someone -- who shot me?"

"Take it easy." Gibbs put his hand on McGee's shoulder and gripped it, stilling his movements. "The ID in his wallet said Marcus Freedman. Abby ran it. It was a fake. His real name is Brendon Neilson. He's wanted for kidnap and rape, suspected of assaulting four teenage girls in Oregon."

"But – but what was he – Tony set me up?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, DiNozzo didn't set you up. He had a plan to – to help you --"

"To help me save your life, right?" McGee's head fell back against the pillow. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the crease between his eyes. "Of all the stupid --"

"He was about to shoot me, McGee. If you hadn't walked up when you did, I'd be laying in this hospital bed instead of you."

McGee dropped his hand and opened his eyes. "I don't --"

"Tony's stupid plan worked; you took a bullet for me. Your debt is paid."

"Paid?" Repeating, as if not sure what he'd heard.

"Yeah." Gibbs leaned over the bed, releasing McGee's shoulder to brace his hand against the wall behind McGee's head. His voice grew soft, but intense. "I owe you my life."

McGee's face flushed. Gibbs withdrew; gave him space, gave him time to process.

"You don't owe me anything."

"You saved my life, McGee. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I'd say that's worth something." He watched, almost seeing McGee's brain working through the process and figuring things out.

"But it's what you'd do – what you _did_ for me. It's what Tony would do, or Ziva would do."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "It's not so easy to accept, is it?"

McGee finally looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Someone's life debt. It's not easy carrying that around."

McGee's eyes cut down to study his blanket. "But you did."

Gibbs walked to the foot of the bed. McGee couldn't avoid looking at him. "Yeah, I did. You worked hard to repay it, too. I shouldn't have done that to you. I shouldn't have taken advantage."

McGee pressed his hand against his body, rolled his lips in against his teeth, and shifted on the bed. "That almost sounded like an apology."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, it did."

McGee lifted his eyes and stared right at Gibbs. He didn't blink or look away. "I accept."

The door opened and Tony peeked in. When he saw McGee's eyes were open, he shifted inside. "The Hero's awake, I see." He stopped, staying near the door. "Did Gibbs tell you? You arrested a wanted man."

McGee's wide eyes passed from Tony to Gibbs. "_I _arrested? But I was --"

"_You_ did, Tim." Tony's head dropped and he studied the tops of his shoes. "At least, that's what my report says."

The room grew quiet, save for the soft beep and whirling of the machines. Tony cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to say, DiNozzo?"

Wide eyes lifted to lock on Gibbs. As if suddenly aware of the panic on his face, Tony made a visible effort to appear calm. He took a step closer. "It's my fault you were hurt, Tim. I really wanted to help you, and instead --"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Tony faltered and stopped. Slowly, he shook his head. "You're right, Tim. No matter how good my intentions were, they still landed you here." He lifted his eyes and focused on McGee. "I'm sorry."

Tim closed his eyes. "I know you are, Tony. You just --"

"Let me make it up to you." Tony moved closer to the bed and waited for McGee to look at him. "Consider me your personal servant. I can do things for you at the office, drive you home from work, pick you up and drive you to work, --"

"No."

"I could pick up your dry cleaning, wash your car, go to the --"

"Tony! You're not listening!" McGee shifted to his elbow with difficulty. Tony reached out to help but Tim slapped his hand away. "Why would I do something to you that you've just worked so hard to undo for me?" McGee's eyes rolled shut. He held his arm against his body and grimaced, then slowly lay back down. "Just – just leave it alone." He sighed heavily and turned his head away. "Leave _me_ alone."

Tony glanced up at Gibbs. Gibbs' eyebrows lifted. He nodded once, then quietly walked to the door. After a moment, Tony silently followed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Fixing McGee's Problem**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.**

**VIII**

Tony walked quietly down the hospital hallway. It'd been nearly five hours since he'd left McGee's room, and he'd managed to have at least a hundred conversations with McGee in his head, clearly stating his guilt and humbly accepting McGee's forgiveness. The little McGee in his head completely understood where he was coming from. The magnitude of what he'd attempted to do for his friend far outweighed the injury that had resulted in Tony's meddling. McGee saw that and absolved him from any wrong doing. At least, the McGee in his head did. The real McGee lying in the hospital bed with a bullet wound in his gut was a completely different matter.

The atmosphere was subdued, as was the lighting. Even the voices over the intercom system seemed quieter. Shades were drawn over dark windows, shutting out the night. He'd barely managed to sneak past the night crew, but finally, his patience had paid off and everyone seemed to be looking the other way.

He looked up, surprised to find himself in front of McGee's door. The trip hadn't taken as long as it had earlier today. Or maybe he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the floor passing away beneath his feet. Tony took a deep breath that lifted his shoulders, then quietly pushed through the door.

McGee lay sleeping, facing the door. The light above his bed was focused on the ceiling, rather than McGee's face. Tony watched him for a moment, running through his imagined conversations again.

"_I'm sorry, McGee. It's my fault you're hurt."_

_McGee smiled. "It's OK, Tony. I forgive you. I know you didn't intend for me to get hurt."_

Disbelief forced a huff of breath from Tony's mouth. He froze, waiting to see if the small noise had disturbed McGee. When McGee showed no sign of stirring, Tony walked quietly across the room to the window. Darkness turned the glass to mirror, and he stood staring forlornly at his reflection.

"You're an idiot, DiNozzo." He hadn't meant to start talking to himself, but once he started, he quickly warmed to his subject. "Tim would have eventually figured out that he couldn't keep up with Gibbs, and what Gibbs was trying to teach him. He would have stopped trying to pay back something he never even owed and everything would have gone back to normal."

A soft groan whispered through the room, lifting the hair on the back of Tony's neck. Turning, he saw McGee's body shift. Thinking he'd been overheard, Tony quickly moved to the bed. But instead of the irritated expression he'd imagine he'd find on McGee's face, he found a furrowed brow, closed eyes, and mouth twisted in fright. A nightmare; McGee was having a nightmare.

He reached out to touch McGee's shoulder, but arrested his movements when McGee spoke his name.

"Tony."

Such a small sound, so full of hurt and worry. Frowning, Tony leaned closer.

"Tony?"

Aware McGee was still sleeping, Tony answered. "I'm here, McGee."

McGee's head turned on the pillow. His breathing quickened. He drew his arms around himself. "Tony, help me."

Alarmed, Tony grasped McGee's shoulders. Gently, he shook him, calling to him. "Wake up, McGee. McGee, wake up!"

McGee's eyes opened. He pulled back from Tony, gasping. "Tony?"

Tony released him and stepped back. "You were having a bad dream."

McGee slumped back to his bed. He lifted one hand and rubbed at his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

McGee nodded. "Water?"

A cup sat on the small table beside the bed. Tony handed it to McGee. McGee drank, then handed it back. His eyes opened and he looked around the room. Finally, his gaze centered on Tony.

"Why are you here?"

Tony shrugged, feeling as if he were standing in Square One all over again. "Just wanted to talk to you."

"In the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

McGee shook his head. "Tony --"

"Wait a minute, Tim. Let me say this, okay? Just let me say what I came to say, then I'll leave."

McGee licked his lips. "Okay. I'm listening."

Tony took a deep breath and couldn't figure out where to start. He'd rehearsed this conversation so many times in his head, and now, with the opportunity to finally set things straight with McGee before him, he found himself at a loss for words. He cleared his throat to stall for time.

"What were you dreaming?" _Now where did that come from?_

Surprised by the question, McGee blinked and stared back at him for a second. "I – I don't remember."

"You called my name."

"I did?"

Tony nodded. "You asked me for help."

McGee turned his head to focus on the ceiling. He didn't answer.

"What were you dreaming, McGee?"

"I was dreaming – I was dreaming about Neilson."

Tony drew a blank for a second, then realized McGee was talking about the man who had shot him. Moving quietly, he drew closer to the bed.

"Everything was dark. He shot me, but you and Gibbs weren't there. The pain --" McGee's hand, resting on his belly, curled into a fist. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then his eyes blinked open again, as if he didn't want to be in the dark. "There was so much blood, and I couldn't – I needed help."

"But we were there."

McGee's head turned and his eyes locked on Tony.

"We were there, and we helped you. Gibbs caught you, then he held his hands over your wound to keep you from bleeding to death." Tony leaned over, his voice strained, his eyes wide, watching McGee. "I talked to you, told you to hold on, that help was coming. And you --" Tony stopped, afraid of stepping too far and breaking the spell.

"What did I do?"

Tony smiled. "You thanked me for trying to help you. I told you that's what friends do – we meddle in each other's business."

"Yeah, you did. I think I remember you saying that."

Tony's smile faded. "I was scared to death, Tim. I thought you were going – I was afraid we were going to lose you." He straightened up and took a step back. "So, I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I am that all this happened." He waited, but McGee didn't say anything. Resigned that he wouldn't find forgiveness tonight, Tony opened his mouth to take his exit.

"I know you are, Tony. I know you didn't mean for me to get shot, and you didn't mean for me to almost shoot you. But did you really believe your plan would work?"

Tony shook his head. "I don't know."

"Listen, I know I take things much more seriously than you do. I knew I was getting carried away, believing I owed Gibbs for saving my life. That's what I do. That's why I depend on you and Ziva to balance me out and keep me in line." He didn't wait for Tony to answer. "But if you'd given me a little more time, Tony, I would have figured that out for myself, and I wouldn't be laying here in this hospital bed."

Tony nodded.

"So next time, don't be so quick to meddle, okay?" When Tony smiled, McGee settled more deeply into his pillow. "If you're not in a big hurry to leave, you could pull up a chair and sit awhile."

Recognizing the request for company, Tony reached for a nearby chair and dragged it closer. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got stabbed by a hooker?"

McGee shook his head. Tony started in on his story. Forgiveness made him feel good and loosened his tongue. McGee was asleep long before he'd finished his story, but that didn't stop Tony. He talked far into the night, encouraged by McGee's gentle snore.

**THE END**


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